I finally see you
by subseeker
Summary: Sometimes... you know someone for years and suddenly you realize... something has changed. Can you finally see..? Sorry, I'm not good at summaries :-/
1. Chapter 1

It was strange. Really strange. He knew him for so long, knew him inside out, but still… something seemed to have changed. He looked at him and saw… something different and he was unable to name it. And then there where small things he suddenly noticed, which he had not noticed before.

John tried to focus back on the show he was watching on the TV, but after a few minutes he caught himself again thinking of HIM. He groaned. He had to do something about that. Maybe… yeah, pizza, beer and football, like friends do? Why not? Enough time to figure things out…

_Next day… friday…_

After his match, John went directly to the locker room. The door opened and revealed Batista and Jericho. He gave them a short hello and went in. And stopped dead. The room was empty, except for him and…

"Hey John! You did great out there", Randy greeted him, a small smile ghosting around the corners of his mouth.

Randy had obviously taken a shower. His short hair was sticking in different directions, waterdrops were running down his back, arms and… chest, to disappear in the towel, which was wrapped around his waist. He felt something stir in his stomach.

_Gods, you're staring at him… _John groaned inwardly.

"You okay?" his friend asked, taking a step closer.

"What? Ah, yeah, I'm fine", he assured and headed to his locker to fetch his own towel. He needed a shower right now, a cold one. Gee, this was weird…

Randy was still there, as John came back. Now clad in blue jeans, sneakers and a black hoodie, he was stuffing things into a duffel bag.

_Now is as good as anytime… go on Cena… _

He stopped beside Randy.

"Hey, you busy tomorrow evening? How about pizza, beer and sports." his asked as casually as possible.

The taller man looked up, again smiling, and nodded.

"Sure. It's been a while. Gonna be there around seven? Should I bring the beer?"

"Great. No, just bring yourself", John replied.

"That I can do", Randy said, heading towards the door. "Gotta go, my daughter is waiting. Bye!"

John waved him a good bye. After the door closed, he found himself staring at it a minute or two longer, thinking. Randy and his wife had broken up and gotten divorced about six month ago, but they still were friends. Randy had never told him why. She took their daughter with her, and three times a week John would see Randy leave with a smile to go and see his little sunshine. He sighed and got himself ready to go.

_Saturday…_

Dressed in black cargo pants, white sleeveless shirt and white sneakers, John sat on the couch, waiting for his guest. When the doorbell rang, he quickly went to the door, opening it and… froze. Randy looked stunning, he had to admit. Clad in blue jeans, not too tight fitting, and a black shirt, _tight_ fitting, he waited for John to let him in.

"Wow."

He saw Randy arch an eyebrow. Oh. He hadn't said that aloud, had he?

"Uhm, thank you? May I come in or…?" Randy asked, taking a step closer.

Shit.

"Uh, sure, come in", John replied, letting his friend inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Yaaay!!! Thanks for the reviews, little me is glad you liked it! You guys made me veeeery happy, thankU

NOW, chap 2 is on, hope you like it, too! R&R, pretty please :3

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This was going to be a hard night...

This evening would show… yeah, what? What exactly did he expect to figure out? Why he felt so weird around Randy? Yup. Why he did behave around him like a complete idiot? Yup. The plan? Just wait, watch and see what happens. He couldn't do anything else anyway.

Sighing silently, he turned around to find Randy leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed, eyeing him intently. He felt a slight blush creep up his cheeks.

"You seem a little bit off. Everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, I…" he began, but the doorbell interrupted him and he turned around thankfully. "Pizza. Go on, have a seat, dinner will be served in a second!"

_What are you, a giddy school-girl?!_ he chided himself, while opening the door…

_An hour or two later__…_

The pizza was eaten, the pizza boxes lying scattered around the couch and they were watching football, just like old times. They were sitting side by side in comfortable silence – well, at least as comfortable, as it could be – but John found himself brooding again over their situation. Thinking back the last month, he and Randy hadn't spend much time together, hadn't talked too much outside work as well. Still, Randy was his best friend and he missed him in his life.

Well, maybe Randy _had_ noticed something? His weird behaviour, his constant staring, blushes, stuttering incoherent sentences and all the other things he did to embarrass himself? Maybe it was his own fault that they weren't spending much time together lately, because Randy wasn't sure how to react about him acting that odd? What… if he was about to kill the best friendship he'd ever had in his whole damn life? He fumbled the bottle in his hands nervously. A hand was laid carefully on his and startled him out of his reverie.

"John, what is it? You stared at me for at least ten minutes. Do I have cheese stuck in my face?"

Randys eyes bore into his.

"You never told me, why you and Sam broke up", John said quietly.

Okay, he used the question as a distraction, but on the other hand, he wanted to know what had happened between Sam and Randy anyway. His eyes never left Randys, until the younger man gave him a brief glare and suddenly looked away, his eyes fixed on the bottle in his hands.

Instead answering, Randy asked back: "And you?"

Right, they had never talked about that, too. John shot him a mock-glare.

"I was first."

Randy just shrugged. "So what? You answer my question, I'll answer yours."

Well, okay then, he had nothing to hide.

"I suddenly realised that I didn't love her anymore", he simply stated.

"Same here", was Randys only answer. "I'll get us some more beer", the younger man huffed, a bitter smile ghosting around his mouth, and went to the fridge quickly.

Johns baby blues followed him.

"Well, it's good, isn't it? No girls, no problems at all", Randy called from out the kitchen area, while fetching two more beers.

"Not exactly", John half-whispered.

He had a damn good view on Randys backside and again, like yesterday, the moment he saw a wet Randy in a towel, he felt something stir in his stomach. Damn… no good out of all things thinking of this image. John had trouble controlling his expression, he wanted to hold up his blank face, but the corners of his mouth kept twitching as he stared at his friend. And then Randy turned around at caught his stare. For a second or two, John thought dying would be a good idea, right now. But a quirked eyebrow was Randys only reaction.

_He must have noticed_, John thought embarrassed, _gods, get a grip, Cena._

"Seems somebody bought enough beer for a get-shit-faced-marathon", Randy chuckled, making his way back to the couch, handing him his beer.

"Can never have enough beer at home, you never now", John mumbled, taking a good sip.

The cheers sounding out of the TV drew Randys attention back to the game and John used the opportunity. Side-gazing the younger man, he took in his handsome features. Randy was definitely attractive, big, well built and… charismatic. One second, he appeared cold, brutal, and the next second there was this charming smile and he seemed to _glow _with happiness_._ Johns gaze lingered a moment longer at his eyes, now soft and warm, and continued to his mouth… strong lines, combined with those lush lips… Lips that were made to be kissed…

John felt his heartbeat speed up and he caught himself leaning closer to Randy. Shocked, he jumped up and almost dropped his beer. This was… was… damn, _what_ exactly was it?!

"John? You okay?" he heard Randy ask, voice startled.

"Huh? I… uh… bathroom. Yeah, I need to piss."

The younger man made a face. "Thanks, dude, too much information."

"Right. Sorry", John said quickly and headed for said room.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everybody! First of all, thanks for the reviews. Little me is always happy to hear how you guys like my little story!

I brought this chapter up late, because I caught a flu… BAH.

Soooo, hope you like this part, too :-)

* * *

John stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection in disbelief.

_This can't be happening_, he thought, slightly panicked.

Their friendship was the only thing in his life that had been going so well all these years. They knew what the other was thinking just by looking at him. They used to talk about _everything_, for hours. Now, best of all, he could be happy to talk to Randy more than one word without descending into stammering idiocy. And now _that_!

_I almost __**kissed**__ him!_ John wanted to cry out loud. _No… nonononono, get a grip, it's just this fucking weird situation._

Well, it was almost funny. _Almost_. John eyed himself critically and huffed a small but humourless laugh. This evening had been his idea. He'd invited Randy over to figure things out and now he had to admit… he didn't know how to deal with this? Might as well go back for round two. Round two of 'How to save a friendship and get your feelings back in order' for dummies. Reluctantly, he opened the door…

And John came back just in time to see Randy bending over the living room table. It was a tempting sight and John knew he was staring again, but he couldn't help it.

"Okay, spit it out", Randy said, continuing with whatever he was doing.

"Hunh?" _Oh wow_, John thought self-mocking, _another conversational gem_.

Somehow he found himself reduced to unintelligently one-word-sentences. Was there a world champion title for making a fool of oneself?

"I know you, John. Something is bothering you." John watched Randy turn around, two glasses in his hands, filled with something that looked suspiciously like whiskey. "We're gonna talk about whatever it is. And our little friend Jim Beam agreed to help."

The offered glass was gratefully accepted and the whisky was drowned in one big gulp. John hissed, as the liquor burned on it's way down, and shoved the glass back in Randy's hand.

"More", he ordered and earned a frown from his friend.

"That bad? John, you should have told…"

"More", he interrupted his friend, "_much more_."

A few seconds later he held the glass in his hand again, this time with _much more_ Whisky in it.

"John…"

Again, John cut him off. "Your divorce. Tell me more about it. Why did it happen, what caused it?"

An empty glass was handed back to Randy to be filled again. Even to his Johns own ears, his voice sounded unsure, a rare occurrence. At least the alcohol seemed to kick in. Randy emptied his own glass and refilled both. Small lines of worry appeared on the handsome face, as he handed one back to John.

"You're acting really weird, you know."

Aaah, so he did notice it!

When John made no sign to say something, Randy sighed and answered: "I already told you, I didn't love her anymore."

"Yeah, I know you told me, but I want you to tell me everything."

"There isn't anything more about it. Why is my divorce so damn important to you?"

Empty glasses were refilled again.

"You're my best friend. That's why it's important to me", John stated, even though he knew he wasn't making much sense.

This was a poor effort to get a conversation going, to stop himself from panicking and making everything even more worse. A poor effort to get back to their cool, easy and trustful friendship.

"When I told her, that I don't love her anymore, she wasn't surprised. She told me, that she'd assumed it, for a while at that point, and that she already came to terms with the fact. She just waited for me to understand it myself and tell her. Divorce, stay friends and three Daddy-Days a week for my daughter. Why is it that women always know things first?"

John just nodded. The moment he confessed his wife that he wanted a divorce, because he in fact didn't love her anymore, had not ended that harmonically. Oh, she had assumed it as well, talk about sixth sense, but she screamed and insulted him nevertheless.

"But my ruined marriage is not what's bothering you."

"Why are you still here?" The question was out before John could stop his damn big mouth from spilling it.

The expression in Randy's stormy blue eyes changed into something soul-searching. Like Randy wanted to read him. A sudden surge of adrenalin made him feel fuzzy. Randy knew him too well and in his uncontrolled state he was an open book to the younger man.

"Mmh? What do you mean? Why should I not be here?" His friends gaze focused on the now empty bottle.

John frowned. Either his friend just acted like he didn't notice anything or he was really oblivious to everything that had happened. _That almost-kiss…_

"It's just… I mean… I…," John said, a mix of a drunken slur and unsure stammering. "The past month, our friendship was practically nonexistent. Maybe… I'm just scared of losing you…"

"You're my friend, John. My best friend. And there's nothing that could change it." Randy looked up, eyes warm, soft, filled with a faint glow of something that invited to stay a little and drown in them.

"It's always been like you're my… soul mate, fitting perfectly in my life, being a part of it. My life wouldn't be my life without you. I'd not be me without you."

Randy's voice was low, a velvety rumble an John felt his heart stumble in his chest. For a second he thought, that maybe, just maybe, if he reached out, if he touched Randy, he would feel that glow in the younger mans eyes, feel what it was, feel Randy's voice under his fingertips. He didn't. But, god, he _wanted_ to.

"I thought you knew," Randy murmured, his eyes never leaving John's.

"Think I just needed to hear it." John managed a small smile. "Hey, Ortz? Thanks."

Still not breaking the eye contact, Randy reached out, patted John's forearm and let his hand slide down to rest at John's. He squeezed it a little, reassuringly. And through his drunken haze, John wondered if Randy felt it, too. This soft tingle.

And suddenly, he was hyperaware of the younger mans body next to him, the radiating warmth, Randy's touch. His breathing became a little faster, his heart began to pound even more. Again, the need to reach out and touch his friend rose.

They both were drunk, really drunk and the whole situation was becoming more and more surreal. John wanted to say something, anything, but a short flicker of doubt and… fear… in Randy's eyes stopped him. Then, eventually, his friend looked away.

"Gonna get us more to drink", Randy slurred, pushed himself up from the couch and… lost his balance.

Before he knew what he was doing, John was up, grabbing his friend around the waist to stop his forward fall. He pulled him in, they fell backwards and crashed onto the couch. The air was pushed from his lungs in a rush and while he tried to take a huge breath, he felt Randy turn in his arms und suddenly, they were nose to nose. So _close_… John felt his heart pound heavily.

Randy's eyes hovered over him, _bore_ into his, he could feel warm breath on his lips and he smelled a strangely intoxicating mix of beer and Randy's aftershave…

"You okay?" he whispered, not trusting his voice.

"Yeah, thanks to you", Randy whispered back, his voice husky.

"Good."

And with that, John closed the last gap to place a soft kiss onto Randy's lips.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: I Finally See You (Part 4)

Author: subseeker  
Pairing: Centon

Genre: Angst, Romance  
Rating: M  
Summary: Sometimes... you know someone for years and suddenly you realize... something has changed. Can you finally see..?

Chapters: 4 of ?

Warnings: Slash – what else?

Disclaimer: Don't own the boys. This is completely fiction, regrettably *sighs*

* * *

_Randy's eyes hovered over him, bore into his, he could feel warm breath on his lips and he smelled a strangely intoxicating mix of beer and Randy's aftershave…_

"_You okay?" he whispered, not trusting his voice._

"_Yeah, thanks to you", Randy whispered back, his voice husky._

"_Good."_

_And with that, John closed the last gap to place a soft kiss onto Randy's lips._

Bliss. One second of pure bliss. And then, shocked about himself, he pulled back quickly. Randy stared down at him, eyes wide open, shocked, surprised, cold, angry… God, what had he _done_?

"I… uh… god, I'm sorry, I…" he stammered, waiting for Randy to knock him out or at least yell at him.

No good. Nothing happened. For about ten seconds. Then all these different expressions in Randy's eyes changed to something John could only describe as predatory.

"At least do it properly," Randy hissed and then pressed his lips to Johns, aggressive but still careful, soft, demanding and gods if this wasn't the best kiss in John's life _ever_.

Just one moment to treasure this, to feel this, with no guilt and no remorse, flashed through John's mind.

Suddenly, their kissing became fiercely, demanding, all teeth and tongues. John moaned, as Randy nipped at his bottom lip and he drew his fingers across his friends back, his nails leaving burning lines on the Vipers skin. Randy growled in response.

Everything in John screamed to feel more, more skin, more Randy, and he tugged at Randy's shirt. A moment later, both their shirts were gone. John didn't know how it happened, but it was _exactly_ what he'd wanted.

He felt southern regions suddenly become interested, and not only his. Just because of a _kiss_. His fingertips ghosted over the soft skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, his hands seeking Randy's face to cup his jaw. His thump drifted over the lush bottom lip. _Lips that were made to be kissed…_

Randy grabbed his wrists roughly, yanking them over Johns head, holding them in place with an iron grip, holding him down. The room was dark but for the flickering lights of the TV, that painted twisted pictures of lights and shadows on the handsome features above him. The sounds coming from the TV faded into background, replaced by their harsh breathing.

Randy's pupils were dilated, almost completely black, his eyes full of raw lust. John felt his blood drain from his head and straight to his groin, making him even more dizzy. Both panting heavily, they stayed like that for a few seconds.

Then one strong hand let go of his wrist and grabbed his nape, pulling him into a bruising kiss. John let out a stifled moan and Randy bit lip, at the same time pulling him down, moulding their bodies together. His free hand slid down the muscled back, finding that incredible ass and grabbed it possessively. God, it felt _good_.

Randy tightened the hold on his other wrist and his nape and pressed down, grinding their groins together. John's free hand groped at every part of Randy's body he could reach, while he felt Randy's hand slip between them, finding one nipple to pinch it. The blond man moaned, closing his eyes and arching up into the touch. Wanting to feel every inch of the younger man, he clung tighter to him, trying to get his restraint wrist free. They struggled for a moment for dominance but then Randy let got, gripping John's hip instead, just hard enough to leave bruises but to let the pain still be delicious.

Their steadily quickening thrusts were accompanied with moans and whimpers and groans that filled the room, getting louder and louder until Randy lowered his head to fasten another passionate, dizzying kiss on John's mouth, that lastet a little eternity. When they broke apart, their breaths came in hard gasps, their bodies were pushing frantically against each other.

John opened his eyes, wanting to see his best friend's face. The stormy-blue eyes were screwed shut, face flushed, the lush lips were swollen from their kisses, and he couldn't resist kissing them again, harshly, biting at Randy's bottom lip. John had never been so aroused, had never wanted anything so much.

He panted, clutching frantically at Randy to anchor himself somehow. He felt Randy hold his hips more tightly in response, then ground down hard. Every inch of his body was becoming enflamed and he sank his teeth in the spot where Randy's neck met his shoulder and was rewarded with a moan, so needy, that it made him shudder. With a final thrust, he felt Randy tense and heard a long, low groan, right beside his ear, echoing through his mind and sending him over the edge. A wave of warmth spread through him, filling body and mind. Their movements stilled. Randy collapsed down onto John, panting heavily.

John's gaze roamed the younger mans face, softly smiling at the content expression he found there. It took only moments until Randy's breath became even. John watched him a little longer, feeling content and happy himself. Lulled by the warmth in his arms and steady breathing beside him, he slowly slipped into sleep.

_Next day…_

The next morning came and the first rays of sunshine found their way through the half closed blinds, slowly creeping over Johns face to rouse him from sleep.

Two things happened. First, John's throat escaped a contented sigh. Despite the fact, that his tongue imitated a one week worn sport-sock, he felt warm and snugly and for the first time in weeks quite relaxed. The warm body in his arms was maybe a little too heavy to say it was really comfortable, but it felt right, cuddly and made him feel even more content.

He sighed again and wrapped one arm a little tighter around the warmth, while the other was lifted to the head resting on his chest to pet it affectionately. He smiled. The short hair under his hand felt funny. Wait. Short?

Then the second thing happened. It started out quite slowly. The drunken haze was gone, but his brain still refused to work properly. But the memories came back, like some weird puzzle the peaces fell back into place. Their pizza and sports night, his uncontrolled school-girl-like behaviour. Too much alcohol. The almost kiss… and…

Johns eyes flew open, baby-blues wide in shock. One heartbeat… a second… Hesitantly he looked down.

_No…no… please… _

And he saw a bad case of short bedhair and broad, tattooed shoulders, lying half on top of him.

_OH GOD… nonononono…!_

His heart skipped a beat.

John watched in horror, as Randy suddenly groaned, moving up his free hand to press it against his forehead, and shifted to get into a more comfortable position. He knew Randy wasn't exactly the fastest one to wake up, but sooner or later he _would_… an then, like John, he would remember what had happened.

_Oh god… oh SHIT!_

No way he'd get out from under the younger man without waking him. But staying where he was wasn't a good idea either. If he was lucky, Randy would have a black out. The he could tell him they'd fallen asleep on the couch?

_Yeah, right Cena. Fallen asleep on the couch, half naked, to wake up in a compromising position, all sticky. And… what's that?_

He stared a suspicious spot where Randy's neck met his shoulder. A purple spot with traces of dried blood around. A bite mark.

_Gods, I made him a bite mark!_

Another groan made John freeze, he even stopped breathing, hoping Randy would _not_ wake up. Randy's hand slipped from his forehead to John's chest, resting there for a second. A moment later one tattooed arm was wrapped around his chest and he felt himself being pulled in, in an innocent but possessive manner. No use, he needed to breathe again. Randy didn't stir, luckily.

No, he definitely couldn't slip out from under Randy's dead weight, since the tattooed arm was locked around him like a steel chain. Pieces of his memory whirled through his mind. Dear god… where had he gotten himself into?

Again, a groan, low, pained instead of sleepy, and John knew that it was show time. Unstoppable like an avalanche, Randy woke up. John watched as Randy moved his head to look up, felt how his hand roamed to feel where it was. Stormy-blue eyes met bright blues.

One breath, a second. And Randy's eyes widened in pure shock and horror.

_That's it_, John thought bitterly, _there goes our friendship._

Randy pulled his hand away as if burned and scrambled away from John, away from the couch. All John could do was to watch, as Randy backed off, utterly shocked and horrified, almost falling in the process as his foot wound up in his shirt.

Slowly John sat up, holding out a soothing hand. He felt anything but calm though. His heart was beating furiously, he was afraid like never before in his fucking entire life.

"Randy… we should..."

"NO!" Randy whispered, grabbed his shirt and stormed out of the living room.

A moment later, John heard a loud BANG as the front door fell shut. He covered is face with his hands and tried to remember how to breathe.

He had been here at Randy's front door countless times, waiting for him to open, like now. Two hours ago, Randy had left head over heels, not giving it a chance and talk about what happened.

After a shower, a coffee and something against his roaring headache, he started to clean up the mess of bottles and pizza boxes. He found his shirt beside the couch. His shirt and the couch smelled like Randy and again pieces of the last night came back. And his friends shocked eyes. Then he found Randy's wallet and he stared at it for a while. He decided that they needed to talk about it, whether Randy liked it or not.

So he came here, still waiting for the door to open. He sighed and knocked again. Randy's car in the parking lot meant that his friend had to be at home.

And he was. The door opened, revealing WWE's Viper. His wet hair indicated that he'd just gotten out of the shower. As he saw that it was John, his face became a blank mask. John pushed in, before the younger man could close the door again. He tossed the wallet to its owner.

"Get out," Randy snapped.

"Nope, don't think so. We can't make undone what happened, that's why we need to talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about. Now, get out!"

"Calm down, okay? I'm as shocked as you are, but hushing this up is no solution! We can't go on like…"

"There is no 'we', John."

John flinched at that statement.

"What do you mean, no 'we'?" he asked quietly.

"Exactly that."

"Last night you said, that we're friends and nothing could change that.

"Well, congratulations, Cena, you proved me wrong. You found something."

Randy's voice was sad, angry, cold, and John felt an icy grip around his heart.

"You don't really mean that," John whispered, slowly walking over to the younger man. "You can't throw our friendship away just like that!"

The muscles under the tattoos flexed, still Randy's posture was defensive and tense, as he watched John approach him.

"This is all you fault," he hissed as John came closer. "You started it!"

"Yeah, you're right. I kissed you first," John admitted. "But _you_ kissed me back. You could have left after the first kiss, but you didn't."

"I was drunk. You took advantage of me!"

"Oh please, you're old enough to know what you're doing, even if you're drunk! And by the way, I was drunk, too! Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember! Still it's your fault. It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't kissed me! Now FUCK OFF!" Randy growled venomously, his eyes angry.

John felt dizzy due to his wildly beating heart. His world was falling apart and he could do _nothing_. He reached out for Randy, but the younger man pulled away.

"Don't touch me, Cena!"

"Randy, _please_," John begged, his voice on the verge of sounding as desperate as he felt. "We _need_ to talk about it!"

He reached out again, trying to calm his friend down. Randy's eyes scared him. They were so _cold_. He couldn't remember his friend ever being cold towards him.

Randy backed off, but John followed. Just as his fingertips touched the tattooed arm, something inside Randy snapped.

"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!" Randy practically screamed.

His fist collided with Johns face, sending him to the ground. Shocked, John felt his nose and stared at the blood on his finger. Randy had hit him… he… had _hit_ him. Hot tears stung in his eyes, but he managed to hold them back. It wasn't because his nose hurt like hell – it was because he knew he was losing his best friend and he felt a part of him die at that thought. Slowly, he looked up at Randy, whose face seemed to soften a little.

"John, I…" he started, but fell silent as John held up a hand and pushed himself up from the floor.

"It's okay, Randy. You made your point of view quite clear."

For a long moment he searched Randy's eyes, trying to understand why the situation suddenly got out of control. John knew that his own eyes probably showed the sadness he felt, but he didn't care. In fact, he _hoped_ Randy would see it. Without another word, he brushed past his… former… friend and left.

He didn't see Randy sinking to the floor as the door fell closed, didn't see him covering his face with his hands. Didn't see the silent tears spilling from stormy-blue eyes. He'd never wanted to hit John. All this should never have happened.

_Two days later…_

Completely lost in his thoughts John made his way from the basement garage through to the locker rooms. He still wasn't sure how to cope with what had happened. After Randy had hit him, he'd been really angry. The day after, the brooding began. Things fell into place. Looking back at that fateful night and the morning after, suddenly everything became heartbreakingly clear. He wasn't only attracted to his best fr… former best friend. No. No, as if this wasn't just serious enough.

_No, Cena, how about falling head over heels in love with him? _

The moment John had admitted it to himself, he drowned his feelings in Whiskey, because he had no idea how he should go on from here. Randy's voice still echoed in his head, talking about being best friends, John being part of his life, his soul mate. And every time it was like his heart broke over and over again. Yesterday, during that hell of a hangover, he'd decided to try again and get Randy to talk about the _incident_ with him. He'd nothing to lose, right?

Sighing, he entered the backstage area and let his gaze roam, hoping to see Randy. And there he was, standing in the doorway to his locker room and talking to Cody. Handsome as ever. John's heart skipped a beat as he saw the bite mark, still clearly visible.

Reluctantly, he walked over to join the two of them. Cody noticed him first. John just nodded and then locked eyes with Randy, who shot him a death glare. John wasn't put off by it though. What could happen at worst? Randy could walk away or tell him to get lost. He wouldn't hit him in front of the guys.

"We need to talk," John said, his voice as neutral as possible.

"Don't think so," Randy answered coldly, "everything's been said."

"Randy, please. Five minutes. You owe me that."

Randy drew himself up to his full height, and hissed: "I owe you _nothing_, _Cena_!"

A moment later, John stared at the closed door of Randy's locker room. His _heart_ _hurt_. Their friendship wasn't supposed to end like that.

It took him a second to realize, that Cody was talking to him.

"… you alright?"

"What?" he whispered, his eyes still focused on the door.

"I asked, if you're alright? What's wrong? You two had a fight?" the young man asked worried.

John turned to him. "Yeah, a fight. It's okay, Cody, everything will be alright."

Giving Cody a pat on the back, he made his way to his own locker room, trying to ignore the pain in his chest.

Randy groaned exhausted, his muscles aching after his match. The door to the Vipers locker room wasn't closed and he could tell by the sound coming through it, that Batista had his way with John. The image of John lying on his back on the canvas, all sweaty and panting popped up in his mind. Annoyed, Randy tried to shake it off.

With a loud BANG the door collided with the locker room wall as Cody stormed in, his face pale, his eyes wide. Randy narrowed his eyes. By the look on Cody's face something wasn't okay.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked worried.

The young man shook his head no and said: "John, he…!"

"Cody, stop! I don't want to hear it!" Randy snapped the second Johns name fell.

Cody stared at him for a brief moment, before he started again: "But he…"

"I said I don't want to hear it! Get the hell out!" the Viper thundered, taking a fast step in the younger mans direction, making Cody back off.

After another moment of silent staring, Cody left the locker room. With a heavy sigh, Randy shut his eyes tightly, pressing his palm against his forehead. This whole situation was unsettling him in a way he couldn't control.

A part of him was angry beyond words… but the other part… reminded him how sad John had looked at him, how much he tried to save their friendship. A defeated sigh escaped his lips. His gaze fell on the now closed door.

For a brief moment he wondered if he should have listened to what Cody wanted to tell him. He remembered the pale face, eyes wide and filled with concern. With another defeated sigh he shook his head and tried to think of something else. All he wanted was to hit the shower and get back to the hotel. Grabbing his towel, he made his way to the showers.

John got out of the ring, more stumbling than walking his way up the ramp to the backstage area. He'd lost against Batista, exactly how it was being planned. He stumbled and almost fell, but he somehow managed to hold his balance.

Batista was still celebrating his victory, his music still sounding in the background, accompanied with a mixture of cheering and booing.

The second John entered the backstage, he leaned heavily against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the concrete floor. He heard some random guy ask if he was okay. John just nodded and waved him off.

He wasn't okay. His head hurt. Really, really bad. Though John was sure that Dave hadn't intended to hit him that hard, the chair Batista had used went down on him with too much force. The last minutes of the match had forced him to muster every bit of energy left, but he hadn't wanted it to end too soon, because of the fans.

Suddenly someone called his name. No, not someone. It was Cody's voice. Cody asked if he was okay. No, he wasn't. Nevertheless he said that everything was fine, hoping that the young man would leave. But Cody stayed, placing a hand on Johns shoulder, giving it an oh so slight shake, that felt like an avalanche. Again, he told him that everything was okay, that he just needed a moment to recover. His shoulder was squeezed carefully, accompanied by a whispered okay. The Cody left, although reluctantly.

John felt dizzy, sick. Nausea was rising and he heard everything as if through thick cotton wool. And his head… it hurt so damn much. And suddenly he felt the overwhelming need to talk to Randy. He had to explain, to save what was left of their friendship before… whatever would happen with him in the near future. This could be the last chance, because something was _badly wrong_ with him. He felt it.

Again, just like minutes before, he tried to gather what was left of his energy and pushed himself up, again leaning heavily against the wall, and began to walk. A few footsteps later he was back at stumbling. Randy's changing room wasn't far.

When he reached the door to Randy's room, he opened the door without even a knock. John slipped in and shut the door behind him. Randy stood clad in only blue jeans and turned around, surprised, and froze when he saw John. It took John much effort to focus on his long time friend, for his vision became more blurry every second.

Through the haze he saw Randy open his mouth, maybe to tell him to go or to yell at him, but John stopped him by holding up a hand. At least, he tried to. His arm was shaking, too heavy to lift. John wanted to say so much, there were so many things he needed to tell Randy, but couldn't. Talking suddenly became too difficult. A concerned expression crossed Randy's face. Or had he just imagined it? Then Randy began to move in his direction, a few steps and… froze again.

"You're… there's blood running from your left ear…"

Blood? From his ear? Not important right now. He needed to tell Randy… Needed to… Nausea was rising again and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to fight down the urge to throw up. When he opened his eyes again, Randy and the room were swaying. Wait… doesn't make sense.

"John? What happened?" Randy asked concerned. "Talk to me... John!"

He wanted to say something, _anything_, but before he could, his knees buckled and he crumbled to the floor. The last thing he knew before everything went black was strong arms catching him, stopping his fall, drawing him in and Randy's voice, calling his name.

"I love you", John whispered into the growing blackness…


	5. Chapter 5

Hi folks! Took me long enough, but I'm back and heeere is the next part :-)

Hope you like it!

* * *

o

"_You're… there's blood running from your left ear…"_

_Blood? From his ear? Not important right now. He needed to tell Randy… Needed to… Nausea was rising again and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to fight down the urge to throw up. When he opened his eyes again, Randy and the room were swaying. Wait… doesn't make sense._

"_John? What happened?" Randy asked concerned. "Talk to me... John!"_

_He wanted to say something, __anything__, but before he could, his knees buckled and he crumbled to the floor. The last thing he knew before everything went black was strong arms catching him, stopping his fall, drawing him in and Randy's voice, calling his name._

"_I love you", John whispered into the growing blackness…_

o o o

… _beep… _

It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair.

… _beep… beep…_

Every time he closed his eyes, he was back at that moment in his locker room. Sitting on the floor, he'd screamed for help, not able to let go of his friend. He still felt John's dead weight in his arms and the rising panic that he could _die_.

_I love you…_

The doc had told him that John suffered an otobasal skull fracture, due to the hit with the chair. They had to fix the damage in a surgery. His eyes roamed the moveless body beside him. John's face was pale, IV's stuck to his arms and his head was wrapped in a thick bandage. But he was breathing and that was the most important thing, right?

There wouldn't be any permanent damage though, but he would need a few more days in hospital and afterwards someone who would look after him.

Everything fine and dandy? No. John wouldn't wake up. Randy sat beside John's bed, waiting, hoping. Three days and still no signs that he would wake up. It wasn't fair.

_I love you …_

"You damn fool. It's all your fault! Why are you doing this to me?" Randy hissed.

He wanted to be angry to stop the growing fear and desperation. It wasn't entirely Johns fault, he knew that all too well… even if he wanted it to be, so maybe all these confusing feelings would go away. The need to hold John tight, to have him around every damn single second, to kiss him… like he'd done that disastrous evening at John's apartment. Ever since, that evening haunted him... the feeling of Johns skin, his taste. This was all so damn wrong yet it felt so incredibly right!

The worst thing was… these feelings weren't _new_. It had taken some time and he'd fought like hell against all this, but in the end he couldn't deny it any longer. He knew John almost his whole life and he loved him all these years… but not _that_ way.

But then, it had to be a little bit over a year now, it all started out as a kind of crush on his best friend. At the beginning, he simply ignored the signs, like, John smiled, Randy felt heat rising. John casually touched him and it gave Randy goosebumps. At this time, he'd told himself it must be just a weird reaction due to stress.

The signs came more often and more clearly. Randy would never forget the evening about eight month ago, when he went the showers after a match and found John showering – and after a few seconds of staring at Johns naked ass he noticed his own dick, rock hard, poking against the towel wrapped around his waist. Randy had been so embarrassed, he fled, without the badly needed shower, from the building to the safety of his hotel room. John hadn't seen him – fortunately.

Call it the beginning of the end. And the end came fast. First, he tried to forget about it, but with no success. He tried to avoid John and somehow John seemed to avoid him, too. Back then, he thought that maybe his friend had noticed it. Well, he knew better now, didn't he? Randy tried to lie to himself, tried again and again, told himself that this is just some kind of a weird phase but… he wasn't a good liar. Never was.

The brooding began. In the following weeks, his marriage died a silent death. There was this one night when he came home after Raw… Sam had already been fast asleep and Randy caught himself staring at her, lying in their bed, and he wishing it wasn't _her_ lying there. Thinking back, this must have been the point he admitted it to himself. He loved John. _That_ way.

So Randy tried to hide behind his oh so cool façade. He didn't want to be in love with a man, above all… not with his best friend. He had a daughter, a caring wife, a good life and he gave his best to keep it that way, no matter what his heart asked for. Gods, how he'd failed. It killed him and he began to feel hollow, every day a little more, until he couldn't stand it any longer and told Sam that he wanted a divorce, which at least ended the lying to Sam. Well, but not the lying to John.

Randy barked a bitter laugh. He'd had the chance to get what he wanted that damn morning after that fatal night and again, he'd failed, completely overwhelmed by what had happened, with his feelings, with the fact that John had started it. Hell he even sacrificed their friendship to keep his secret safe, instead of shoving his damn pride aside and admit his feelings… or at least let John save their friendship by being that stupid fool who tried to do everything to make it right for WWE's Viperness.

Reaching blindly for John's hand, he stifled a sob and held on his friends hand for dear life. How could a hand feel so warm and at the same time so lifeless? This wasn't right. Intertwining their fingers, he willed John to give some kind of responds, maybe by moving his finger, even if it was just a twitch. Nothing. Randy sighed.

Time passed. An hour? Two? Maybe. He didn't really care. It felt like days, weeks… too long. Every once in a while a nurse came in, checked on the unmoving form in the bed.

Randy knew he needed a break, but he simply couldn't leave John. So he did the only thing he could do – talk to John, hold his hand and stare until exhaustion caught up with him…

o

A soft groan called Randy out of his doze. He got up from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed, letting his gaze roam over his friends face. John's eyes were moving behind the lids and his mouth was slightly open, his lips trembling. Randy's felt his heart speed up.

"John? Come on, I know you can hear me… wake up, Johnny…" Randy said, urging him back to consciousness.

The pale face began to twitch, the breathing became stronger and an almost inaudible _Randy_ escaped John's lips.

"Yeah, that's it, come back, Johnny, come back to me…"

Tender fingers cupped John's face, thumps gently caressing his cheeks. Again Randy willed John to give a responds, willed him to wake up. And so he did.

Finally John opened his eyes, his gaze dazed and unfocused, roaming the ceiling. Incredibly relieved Randy pushed the button to call a nurse. It took John a few breaths until he focused on Randy, who stared at him big, glassy eyes, one hand still cupping John's face, the other seeking his hand.

"Ran…dy?"

"Yeah, John, it's me."

"What… where…?"

"You're in a hospital, John. An accident in your match with Dave. They had to fix your pretty head," Randy explained hushed. "You're gonna be okay, Johnny."

He looked up as the door opened, then back to John and whispered: "I'll be back soon, doc has to check on you."

The dazed blue eyes widened as Randy let go of John's hand.

"I'll be back soon," Randy repeated, "promise."

o

Pacing up and down the corridor, Randy waited for the door to open. It was damn nerve-wracking to wait for the doctor – he wanted to know if John was okay, like _right now_. He stopped for a moment, staring at the door – why the hell did it take the doc so long to come out? - then shook his head softly and continued to pace. Just as he passed the door, it opened. Two quick strides and he was beside the doctor, who scribbled something on a medical record.

Not wasting time, he asked: "Doc, how's John?"

The older man looked up, scrutinizing him.

"Mr. Cena's state of health is as good as it can be expected under the circumstances, but he suffers of amnesia," the doctor explained.

Randy stared at him for a moment and whispered: "Amnesia?"

"Yes, but it will only be temporary. Sooner or later he will regain his memory. Did something serious happen the last few days?"

"Well… yeah, I think serious is the right word. So he only forgot the last days?"

The doctor nodded.

"He shouldn't be reminded of it, unless he remembers himself."

The doctor nodded again and left with his staff to check on the next patient, but Randy didn't move. Nurses, doctors, patients and visitors were passing him, a steady stream of business filling the corridor. Chatting people, doors opened and closed, but Randy still didn't move. Just like a still life, the young man stood in front of John's room, staring at an invisible point on the floor.

Temporary amnesia. Pondering on the situation, he wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing. Well… to be honest, it _wasn't_ a _bad_ thing. Given the fact that John had forgotten _enough_, he had a chance to make things good somehow, before John regained his memory. Maybe there was a little chance then, that his friend would be less angry about him being the biggest asshole on earth. But to find out what John remembered, he had to go in first.

Straightening himself, he opened the door and entered the room, expecting a verbal attack – or worse, silence. Instead he found himself greeted by a tired but smiling John. Randy sat down on the edge of the bed, eyeing his friend, whose face was pale and strained, intently.

"Hey, Johnny, how do you feel?" Randy asked quietly.

"Head hurts…" John rasped. "Glad you're here."

John managed a weak smile, and his eyes showed that he really was glad. Okay, this was a good start, wasn't it? John was glad to see him. Yeah, a good start…

"I had an accident in the ring?"

"Yeah. Dave found something that's harder than your pighead. What's the last thing you remember?"

Randy took John's hand, his fingertips caressing the palm. John closed his eyes for a moment, both to savour the feeling and to find his last memory.

"I wanted to invite you over for a beer-pizza-sports-night. Did I?"

The younger man nodded and felt oddly relieved for that kind of a second chance.

"You did. You know, the doctor advised me not to tell you what happened the past days. He said you have to remember yourself and that you're memory will come back sooner or later. But pushing it is not a good idea, so don't trouble your pretty head," Randy said, silently thanking the doctor for this order.

John gave a soft nod. It was obvious that he had a hard time to stay awake, even if it had just been about ten minutes since he'd woken up.

"Tired," John mumbled, eyelids already drooping.

A broad hand settled affectionately on John cheek, while the other was still wrapped around John's hand, tenderly caressing it.

"You sleep. When you wake up, I'm here. Promise."

It took only a couple of seconds for the older man to be asleep again. Careful not to wake him, Randy slipped from the edge of the bed back on the chair beside the bed, his hand never letting go of John's.

o o o

Four days after John's surgery, much earlier than it was planned or the doctors liked, Randy was allowed to take him home. Four days of John complaining, bitching and whining about being in hospital, about Randy not being there _all damn 24 hours a day_.

It was an odd situation. While Randy tried to forget about what had happened, at least for a few hours a day, John desperately tried to remember. And while John was disappointed and annoyed that his memory wouldn't come back, Randy was relieved and glad about a little more time to show what John meant to him, before his friend _remembered_.

John still bitched around, now because he wasn't allowed to get out of bed and walk around. One of a few conditions set by the doctor, so John could leave the hospital.

Though the situation made Randy's constant help necessary, John hated it to _need_ help, and the younger man knew it. The more he was happy that, though complaining about almost everything, John not once lost a word about being dependent on Randy - Randy knew he kind of loved the fact, that the Viper was at his service. And _how_ he was at his service… If you would have asked Randy if he ever considered being someone's personal servant, he probably would have laughed out loud – WWE's Viper a personal servant? Sure as hell not. Well… that was until now. John called, Randy was there, no matter what his friend needed or wanted.

It was the fourth day after John's homecoming and at the beginning, it had been really awkward to help John to get to the toilet safely. He would guard him on his way to the bathroom, waiting for him to come out and to help him into bed again.

Maybe the worst of all was the fact that Randy too hat to be around when John had to take a shower. They agreed that it would be the best not to shower but to use the tub and take a nice bath, because of the fainting-slipping-hitting-your-head-thing that could happen in John's state of health.

It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other naked before, still it was awkward for John to have a full clothed watch-dog around while taking a bath. Let alone the fact that it took all his willpower to keep his body from reacting… odd to an oh so close Randy.

Randy for his part was so busy doing the same, - means willing his body to not do REALLY embarrassing things – that he didn't notice a thing.

But it worked out. John called, Randy was there. Randy ordered, John took his advice. Every day John felt a little better… and worse.

o o o

John opened his eyes and his gaze lingered on the door that was standing slightly open… a thin ray of light falling through it. Muffled sounds came from downstairs, indicating that Randy was still busy cleaning up the kitchen. It was almost heartbreakingly cute how his friend cared for him. The last three days Randy did his best to be the mother-hen of the year. John was sure that the younger man hadn't slept properly for even just an hour since the day he took John back home from hospital. Always waiting for his patient to call.

John's lips curled in a sad smile. All this would be over the day the doctor attested that he was fully recovered. Randy would move out and John would be on his own again. But he wanted Randy to stay. For good.

Randy had told him that they'd had their evening. One of his lost memories. No matter what he'd found out that evening, over the last days John had realized one thing for sure – he was in love with his best friend. The one and only person he couldn't have. And he wasn't sure how to go on.

_Gods, I'm so pathetic… _

The smile faded as he pressed his lips together tightly to stifle a pained sob. He pressed his face into the pillow, trying to suppress a wave of desperation and tears that threatened to overcome him.

A moment later the bed dipped and a warm hand was laid on his nape carefully. When had Randy come in? Didn't matter… And he found himself somewhere between drowning in his pain and wanting to savour the feeling of the warmth of Randy's hand.

"John? What's wrong?"

God, how he loved that voice, so tender, so caring…

"My head hurts and I can't sleep."

It wasn't really a lie. His head did hurt and sleep was far away. He turned his head a little, slowly, gazing at Randy's face from the corner of his eyes. The hand drifted away from his nape to rest at his temple. Randy looked drawn and tired.

"You should go to sleep, Randy. You look like you need it badly."

"Don't worry. I've got plenty of time to sleep when you're okay again. You want some painkillers?

Randy smiled, the smile as tired as the rest of his face looked. John thought of a way to get himself and Randy a little rest. Probably…

"No. No painkillers. But… we could watch a film? Distraction, you know? Getting ready for bed and if we fall asleep, so it be? The bed's big enough and you're right beside me, so if I need something I don't have to call, just kick you and you don't have to listen half of the night? You really need some rest, it's no use if you collapse."

They fell silent for a moment, John hoping Randy would agree and Randy pondering John's suggestion. The younger man nodded then.

"Okay. Sounds good. Just let me get a movie from downstairs."

o

Loud cries of fighting cats woke John during the night. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. Well, he was in his bed, Randy still beside him and propped up against the headboard of the bed, John's head half resting on his pillow and half against Randy's arm. His friends head had fallen back against the wall, the position looking somewhat awkward. The blanket was around his friends waist, the tattooed arms lying beside him. The pale moonlight flooded the room, making the tan skin look like silver and the now smooth features of the handsome face like chiselled out of marble. It was like someone had painted one of John's dreams…

_Damn, Ortz, look at you…_

John sighed quietly and reached out to touch one tattooed shoulder. It felt cold. Carefully he shook his friend, trying to wake him.

"Randy, wake up. You're freezing to death. Hey, come on…" he called quietly.

When Randy didn't stir, John propped himself up on one elbow, gazing at his sleeping friend. He moved his free hand up, letting his fingers linger just a breath away over those beautiful lips. It would do no harm if he would steal just one single touch, would it? Hesitantly he let his fingertips touch Randy's lips.

_So soft…_

Suddenly the sleeping man grunted and opened his eyes. John pulled his hand back quickly, as shocked being caught and as disappointed about the lost chance to touch those tempting lips. Stormy-blue eyes looked at him sleepy.

"I didn't want you to catch a cold. You were freezing and your head…" John wanted to explain, but after a few second he realized, that Randy wasn't really awake. So he just added: "Get under the blanket and sleep."

The younger man did how he was told, sliding further down under the warm blanket. John watched as those stormy-blue eyes slipped shut again. A few breaths later Randy was fast asleep again and John dared to scoot closer to his friend, allowing his head to rest against the tattooed shoulder, just like before.

For a few more moments he stared into the darkness, wondering how it would be to sleep like this every single night from now on. For some odd reason he felt… save, having Randy by his side. Comfortable.

_Loved._

At that last thought he closed his eyes, savouring that small wave of warmth that suddenly spread in his chest. Loved. Peacefully, he drifted back into sleep.

_Loved…_

o o o

The clock showed already eleven a.m., but the bed was still occupied. Randy's eyes were fixed on the sleeping man in his arms, just every once in a while he let his gaze drift to the window. His fingertips brushed lazily over John's shoulder, to his nape and back to his shoulder. He could feel John's steady and warm breath against his neck and he wondered what would happen if he told him everything. If he just told him the truth. That he had been a complete ass. That he knew John loved him. That he loved John. It wasn't an option though, the doctors orders were quite clear.

For the first time in days, Randy's sleep had been fitful and he felt much better. They didn't have an appointment today, so he' decided to let his friend sleep until he would wake up, even if it meant to stay in bed till noon. John's face was peaceful and he looked like the little boy he seemed to be most of the time. Too cute for a grown man.

The older man shifted in Randy's arms, turning his face into Randy's neck with a content sigh that made the younger man smile. One of Randy's hands drifted up to brush lovingly over the short blond hair. The closeness had scared him that fatal morning and now he wished it would last forever.

The near future scared him though. John would remember sooner or later and he hoped, _really_ hoped and wished and begged to what higher spirit there might be, that John would forgive him and remembered that he loved Randy. You can't forget that you love someone, can you?

"Please forgive me, John," he whispered.

He felt John stir and heard him gasp a second later, the massive body in his arms tensing.

"John, you okay?" he asked worried, hoping that the older man hadn't heard his plea, he really didn't want to explain it… now.

"I… I… uhm, I'm sorry, I tend to hog pillows and…" John stammered and tried to move away from his friend, but Randy didn't loosen his embrace.

"And instead you hogged me," Randy stated the obvious, letting his smile be shown in his voice.

"I'm really sorry…" John apologized, sounding quite embarrassed.

"No need to be. I don't want to get up now. How about we stay a little longer in bed. And… you can stay like this if you want," Randy said, almost whispering the last words.

The body in his arms tensed a little more for a brief moment but relaxed soon and he felt John _snuggle_ back into him. One large arm was wrapped around Randy's chest.

"Okay. Sounds good to me," John whispered back.

"Comfy?"

For a moment John allowed the tender voice to wash over him. For a moment he imagined how it would be to wake up like this every morning, allowed to be so close to his friend.

"Yeah," he sighed, "comfy."

_Didn't know you were, I probably would have tried to hog you years ago._ That's what he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue.

"Us lying in bed like this is really weird, you know?" he said instead. "Really, _really_ weird."

Randy just grunted, but made no sign to move or to reply otherwise. This grunt could have meant yes, no or I don't care. Subconsciously John's arm tightened his hold on Randy's chest and the younger man responded by doing the same. And somehow it felt like a kind of a permission.

"Randy… uh… could you… would you… I mean, sleeping with you felt good and…"

It was Randy's trembling body in his arm and a stifled snort that interrupted him and made him realise what he'd just said. He felt the heat of embarrassment rise.

"Tell me I haven't just said that", he whined and tried to pull the blanket over his head.

Randy erupted in laughter, an honest, light-hearted and incredibly amused sound. It had been long since John had heard his friend laugh like that and it made him snigger despite his embarrassment. It took Randy a couple of moments to calm down.

"What I meant was, I slept good, knowing you're beside me if something happens," John said, peeking out from under the blanket he was still hiding under, after the laughter had subsided.

A grin was spread over Randy's face as he peeled the blanket away from John.

"I know. Same here, John-John." The grin became a tender smile. "Your bed's big enough. I could sleep here as long as I stay with you?"

"Yeah," John replied, relieved that he hadn't to ask that question himself.

They fell silent. It was a comfortable, happy silence and both men, arms still wrapped around each other, allowed themselves to get lost in their thoughts. They stayed like this for another hour, until hunger made them get up and out of the warm bed.


	6. Chapter 6

Back again, though this part ist a little short... still, rather a short part than no part, right? ;-)  
Enjoy! Oh, and reviews = love :D 

* * *

"_Randy… uh… could you… would you… I mean, sleeping with you felt good and…"_

_It was Randys trembling body in his arm and a stifled snort that interrupted him and made him realise what he'd just said. He felt the heat of embarrassment rise._

"_Tell me I haven't just said that", he whined and tried to pull the blanket over his head._

_Randy erupted in laughter, an honest, light-hearted and incredibly amused sound. It had been long since John had heard his friend laugh like that and it made him snigger despite his embarrassment. It took Randy a couple of moments to calm down._

"_What I meant was, I slept good, knowing you're beside me if something happens," John said, peeking out from under the blanket he was still hiding under, after the laughter had subsided._

_A grin was spread over Randys face as he peeled the blanket away from John._

"_I know. Same here, John-John." The grin became a tender smile. "Your bed's big enough. I could sleep here as long as I stay with you?"_

"_Yeah," John replied, relieved that he hadn't to ask that question himself._

_They fell silent. It was a comfortable, happy silence and both men, arms still wrapped around each other, allowed themselves to get lost in their thoughts. They stayed like this for another hour, until hunger made them get up and out of the warm bed._

o_  
_

The day passed slowly and they had a great time. After they had finally gotten out of bed and killed an incredibly good breakfast - John still wondered where and when Randy, the walking kitchen disaster, had learned to cook, and really good, too - Randy took him to the next lake, where they stayed for a few hours. Sprawled in the grass under a tree, they chatted, dozed, chatted again, took a – careful – dip and chatted a little more while having some leftovers from the breakfast.

Johns head reminded him every once in a while, that there was a reason for Randy being around, with sudden dizziness for example. Randy noticed that something wasn't okay the same second John felt it. It was like switch being flipped and his friends' expression changed from relaxed to worried in a blink.

"You're pale, champ. Your head? You feel dizzy? Sick?" the younger man asked, his voice showing the same worry as his face.

"Dizzy," John mumbled.

He swayed a little although he was sitting and he screwed his eyes shut. While trying to fight down the dizziness, he heard a rustling and footsteps and a moment later he felt Randy sit down behind him. Randy pulled him back against his chest and held him tight and it somehow anchored John.

"It's okay, I've got you. It'll pass, give it a moment," the low voice murmured right beside his ears.

Okay, this was… odd. REALLY odd. And good. But wrong. And so right. Like this morning. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. No good idea. And so damn good and right. Oh… he was repeating himself and again, like so often in the past days and weeks, he wasn't making much sense here.

_Gods, Cena… what are you, a mush-brain?_

Randy was only offering some support and he was making it something sexual. Why not leaning back, taking what was offered until he was feeling okay again and Randy would let go.

_But no, John, no, you want it to be more than that. Gods, this is so poor…_

"How's your head?" Randy murmured right beside his ear. Again. "You're still tense. Hurts?"

John started a little at the voice. Randys mouth was so close, that his breath ghosted over his skin, giving him goose bumps. But the dizziness was gone. Oh. Great.

"Uh, no. I was just thinking. I'm fine again, thanks," John said quietly, waiting for his friend to get up, hoping he wouldn't.

But Randy did. A moment later they were sitting side by side again and John already missed the feeling of being wrapped up in Randy's arms. He knew all to well that Randy scrutinized him that very second to make sure that John really was okay. John considered buying him a shirt with _WWE's Mother-Hen_ printed on. Uh… no… it should be _John Cenas Mother-Hen_ John corrected himself, because he never ever wanted Randy to do all that for someone else.

"What were you thinking of?"

"Just tried to concentrate on something else than my head," John lied.

Randy just nodded, taking a quick look at his watch and grunted as he realized what time it was.

"Sorry John, we have to go. Today's Daddy-Day."

"Oh, okay, let's go then. You can't let your little princess wait."

While Randy packed up their things, he explained: "I got you some company while I'm away. Ted and Cody. I won't be back all too late."

He helped John get up and they made their way back to the car. On their ride home, all John could think of was that this would probably be a long evening with a jumpy Cody and a grumpy Ted – because of a jumpy Cody.

o

And as it turned out, he was right. John was lying in his bed, buried under blankets and a huge comforter he'd wanted to hide under for the time Laurel and Hardy were here to keep an eye on him, and Randy was just trying to find him in that bunch of blankets to say his goodbye to John, when the doorbell rang. So Randy told the pile of blankets and comforter his _See you later _and headed for the door to let his watch-dogs in.

A few seconds later, Cody bounced through the living-room, all giddy and jumpy and to John it sounded like he was bouncing right around his bed and he wondered how a grown man could personify some silly comic-character that convincing. Most of the time, the kid was cute and sweet and there was no way that you could not like him, but _right now_ he wanted Ted to shut him up for gods sake. No matter how.

Ted didn't manage to shut the little bouncy-ball up completely, but at least after a few moments it was much quieter. John decided to stay under his pile of blankets until Randy would be back. As long as Cody and Ted didn't try to wake him to drag him down to the living-room or something else he could live with a little noise from downstairs. He really liked those two – but not right now.

o

"Ted, I think we should dig him out from under all those blankets. He's going to suffocate."

John blinked in his self-built cave and wondered what time it was. He'd obviously fallen asleep, now disturbed by the voices at his door and he was thankful that the boys didn't see that he was awake.

"I think we should let him sleep. I don't think that Randy would be happy if we disturb John, he still needs to get better."

"Yeah, but he sure as hell won't be happy if John dies under those blankets," Cody muttered. "How can he sleep like that?"

John heard Ted sigh.

"Ask him the next time he's awake and let him…"

"I wonder if he remembers", Cody interrupted Ted.

"What?" Ted sounded confused. "What are you talking about?"

"They had a fight. Pretty nasty as it seemed. I've never seen Randy that angry and cold towards John. I wonder if John remembers or if Randy told him… They must have talked about it. Why else would Randy suddenly act like nothing happened?"

There was a moment of silence until he heard Ted sigh again.

"Randys order was pretty clear – don't tell John what happened the last days, don't ask him. Maybe they talked about it – maybe not. Probably Randy decided that, whatever the reason for their fight was, it wasn't important anymore after John had that damn accident? Now let's get back down."

"For the record: it's not my fault if he dies under mount blanket, I wanted to dig him ou_ch_…!"

A soft smack and a muttered _Shut up_ indicated that Ted didn't want to discuss this any further. John heard them leave his room and then footsteps on the stairs. A moment later the TV was switched on and its dimmed sound told him that it was safe to peek out from under the blankets.

He frowned. A fight? Why would they fight? They had always managed to settle whatever problems they had peacefully. This wasn't making any sense. He squinted into the semi-darkness, trying to remember the mentioned fight but again his memory failed him. Probably he should go and ask Cody about it? But… as long as Ted was there, he wouldn't get any answers. Ted would stick to Randys instructions. Still wondering about the whole thing John made a mental note to talk to Randy about it and he wouldn't let himself be put off that easily.

His eyes flicked to the clock. He sighed. Randy was gone for just two hours and he already missed him. How would he feel when it was time for Randy to move out and get his own life back? He sighed again. It would take a few more hours until his friend would be back. So he closed his eyes and tried to sleep to pass the time faster.

o

Randy watched from the open doorway, his lips curled up in a sad smile as he watched the sleeping form on the bed. The pile of blankets had slipped down and revealed a peacefully sleeping John.

Oddly enough, in the few days they had spent together now, he'd grown used to his feelings for John. Those unwanted feelings had turned into something that seemed to be an inseparable part of his life.

It was ridiculous how a big man like John could seem so lost in a bed… but he did. The blinds weren't closed and the moon filled the room with shadows and silverish moonlight, highlighting John's broad shoulders and his muscled back that were framed by the blankets John had hidden under.

Randy slipped further into the room, silently padding over to the bed. He crouched down. A fine trembling rippled through John's body, he could see that one of John's hands was cradled to his chest, holding something like it was something precious and he could hear him breathe softly. He loved to listen to John breathing … it soothed his troubled mind.

It was going to be another one of those nights, when he found himself unable to sleep because the need to watch his friend wouldn't let him. One of those nights when all he could think of was how this whole thing was going to end.

Randy remained crouched where he was a little longer, his gaze roaming John's face that was half hidden by the shadows. The hand that was cradled to John's chest twitched and drew Randy's attention to it. The younger men leaned closer to see what John held on so tightly, carefully not to wake him and… gasped softly. It was the shirt Randy had worn at night. He was sure that he'd left the shirt in the bathroom this morning.

All he could do was stare and wonder why it was there, in John's hand, held like something beloved, the whole image carrying something incredibly… sad… and he took in every detail, memorizing it for eternity. It ached deep inside, to see John like this and not to be allowed to lie beside him, hold him, kiss him, now and forever.

Randy reached out and his fingertips touched Johns hand cautiously, brushed it in a tender gesture and slid to the clutched shirt. He buried his fingers in the fabric, close to Johns hand and for a moment the shirt seemed to unite them inseparably. A melancholy smile ghosted over his face as he beheld the sight, before he sank forward and rested his head on his arm, his eyes never leaving their hands.

„Don't ever let go."

Those words, whispered, filled with both fear and hope and sounding so lonely that it went straight to his heart. Randy looked up from their hands, right into John's baby-blues that were watching him. Those beautiful eyes beseeching, carrying a plea…

_Promise you won't…_

His eyes searched John's face for a few heartbeats. The younger man wanted so badly to say he that he never would, no matter what happened, but how could he, not knowing what was to come when John's memory returned? Then looking back down at the shirt he let go of it, his hand slowly covering John's, his touch a promise that betrayed his better knowledge. John's grip on the shirt loosened, taking hold of the long, elegant fingers, that made such a contrast to his own yet matched so perfectly.

John tentatively tugged at Randys hand and Randy followed, crawling into the bed to lie down beside him and wrap his arms around him in a loose embrace.

"Randy, I…" John whispered, words failing him, not knowing how to explain.

"Shhh… I've got you," Randy whispered back, pulling him closer.

He let his hands drift to Johns' neck, gently scraping his nails over the soft skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Stormy-blue eyes sought Johns'.

John reached up to touch those beautiful lips but stopped before he did, cupping the beloved face instead and he felt Randy lean into the touch. They were as close as this morning… but now it was somehow different. This was _more_… John knew that his next move would change everything…

His heart began to pound heavily in his chest as he leaned up to place a soft kiss on Randys lips that lasted only a heartbeat. He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with the younger man, to see if this had been the biggest mistake he'd ever done but all he found there was… love…? His breath caught in his throat.

"Randy..."

The word sounded way more desperate and needy and probably sad as John wanted it to, but he couldn't help it. Randy raised himself off the bed and softly urged him to flip over. He pulled his own shirt off and settled back down with one knee on each side of Johns' legs, their cocks just barely brushing, but still enough to make them both moan.

The sound went straight to Johns cock. He felt himself grow hard and he pushed his hips up, aching for more contact, grinding their groins together and fuck, Randy was as hard as he was. The younger man leaned down and captured his mouth in a demanding kiss, while his hand trailed down between their bodies, cupping the bulge in Johns pyjama.

For a moment, John responded, his hips raising up a little more into the touch, his hands coming up to clutch Randys arms, but then he let himself sink back into the mattress, pushing the younger man away, suddenly unsure.

"Randy, this… I…"

Randy shook his head softly.

"It's okay, John. Everything's okay, just let me do this for you. Let me take care of you," he whispered, his voice reassuringly.

Their eyes locked for an endless moment and Randy didn't dare to blink. He remembered their first time that very moment, every detail, every emotion and he remembered the pain that followed and he knew that he should have stopped this the second John made him crawl into bed. But he knew, too, that it was much too late for him to stop now…

Finally John gave one, hesitant nod and let his hands trail up the tattooed arms to rest on the broad shoulders. His head fell back onto the pillow, eyes closed. Randy felt a surge of warmth, making him smile and he bent down to place a kiss on Johns collarbone, a second, a third, until he reached his neck, giving it a soft nip. He could feel Johns low moan vibrate against his lips, making him smile again.

John kept his eyes closed, concentrating on Randys scent, on his lips that nibbled the sensitive skin of his neck and he arched up, wanting more contact. The feel of Randys hot skin against his made him moan again and the younger man answered him with a low growl.

Suddenly a small, _small_ voice somewhere deep in Johns head called to him and it told him to stop this, because this all was a big mistake. Again.

_Again…_

John opened his eyes, gaze fixed on the ceiling, while this small voice battled to gain control. His hands moved up on their own accord to grab Randys shoulders, to push him away, but the second he wanted to push, Randy found _that_ spot right under his ear, licking it just as his hand, that still rested on Johns crotch, started to move, to squeeze and rub and the voice drowned in a wave of all those weird, new, _good_ feelings. God this was so hot. So wrong. So _right_.

John gasped. He could feel Randy smirk against his skin and the licking became sucking. A groan, deep and needy, escaped Johns lips. Bastard. Finally his eyes trailed away from the ceiling back to Randy, to his broad tattooed shoulders…

… _lying half on top of him… _

An image flashed through Johns' mind, like a déjà vu, followed by others, which made his heart skip a few beats.

… _stormy-blue eyes wide in pure shock and horror… this is all you fault… there is no 'we', John… cold eyes… I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!_

And then he remembered - that night, the morning after and the torturing days that had followed and every single memory _hurt_. His mind screamed, his body tensed.

_No…!_

Randy looked up, his eyes carrying a questioning and baffled expression that changed to alarmed, as Johns fingers suddenly started to dig painfully into his shoulders. Johns eyes were wide open in shock.

"No… no… off… get off…" the older man whispered, but Randy remained were he was, frozen to the spot, not able to even say a word.

"I said get off!" John then growled as he didn't move and pushed him off with all his might, sending Randy to the floor.

The younger man lay there, shocked, not really understanding what had happened. John had his face buried in his hands, the broad shoulders shaking ever so softly as he tried to fight against the pain that came with the memories.

"John?" Randy asked, voice insecure as he pushed himself up, taking a step closer.

"Get out," John replied, voice choked.

"But…"

John was up in a blink, pushing Randy backwards until he was out of the room. He closed the door, leaving the younger man alone in the dark corridor. Back against the door John slid down until he sat on the floor, again trying to fight the memories and the pain, but he failed. The tears came and silent sobs tore from his throat.

_This can't be happening…_


	7. Chapter 7

Now, guys - this is the last chapter of this series. I hope you enjoy this part and enjoyed the whole story as well :-)  
Have fun and by the way - Good start in 2011! :D

* * *

o

The living-room was flooded by pale moonlight, falling through the large windows. The room seemed to be frozen in time, like one of those black and white pictures that touches something deep inside you.

Outside a soft breeze stirred the leaves on the trees. No other sound was to be heard. The night was so calm, it was depressing. The floor felt cold under Randys bare feet as he stood by the window, silently staring at the almost dead world outside. His arms were crossed, his fingers digging hard into his biceps, unnoticed by him. It was ridiculous how the pale light fit his mood.

A shiver ran down his back, producing goose bumps on his arms. It was cold, too cold to stand here only clad in thin pyjama-pants and the cold parquet under his naked feet. He didn't even know how long he already stood here.

It had taken him a while to figure out what had happened – but then it hit him, badly. Johns memory was back. It would have been difficult enough if John would have regained his memory at some random moment in the past few days but this had been the worst possible moment for him to remember. And it was Randys fault. He shouldn't have given in to John against his better knowledge. He hung his head and fought against the desperation and fear he was feeling, willed himself to ignore the agony he felt, tried to remain strong. Now… what?

Randy didn't hear the silent padding of naked feet behind him as John slowly approached him. The older man stopped for a moment in the middle of the room. His arms were hanging at his side, muscles in his arms flexing as he watched Randys form in the pale moonlight. The tattooed shoulders were hunched and he couldn't remember that he'd ever seen Randy look so _small_.

For some odd reason it made him realize that the anger he had felt just a few minutes ago was gone – and that he felt nothing instead. No anger, pity, sadness… simply _nothing_. Randy still made no sign that he'd noticed John and it gave John the option to just go back to his room and… then? Hope Randy would leave. Or that he wouldn't? John needed to know...

"Why?" he asked quietly while taking a few more steps in Randys direction.

The younger man flinched at the unexpected voice and his whole body seemed to tense, but he didn't turn around.

"You knew what happened the last time and you still let it happen again," John hissed as the younger man remained silent. "You should have stopped it!"

"Yeah, right. And how would I have explained to you why I stopped something I wanted myself so badly? Like, oh, John, let us wait until you've got your memory back? Right, like that would have worked. You know yourself. You would have asked me and pushed me until I told you everything!"

"Oh come on, that's a sorry excuse!" John snapped anger boiling up again. "You know it would have been the better way. And the right one. I feel betrayed, Randy. So god damn betrayed by the only person I always trusted with everything!"

"What the hell do you want me to say?" Randy suddenly exploded, still not turning around.

Randy looked like a cornered animal. It seemed to John that the younger man was _afraid_ to face him and he felt the urge to grab him and turn him around so Randy _had to_ look him into the eyes. He didn't though. Instead he sighed heavily, his anger deflating again.

"I don't understand it. After all you made it pretty clear that you didn't want us to be friends anymore. So, why?" the older man asked quietly. "Why all this?"

The heavily inked arms sunk to Randys side, fists clenched.

"The moment I realized that you wouldn't quit our friendship," he began to explain, "it was already too late to go back for me… somehow. I love you, John, and…

The words died in his throat the second he realized what he'd just said. He'd just admitted to his best friend that he loved him. Just like that. That hadn't come out right.

"You love me?" John asked quietly, his voice that bare of any emotion that it made Randy flinch.

"Yes, I love you… I didn't want you to know, that's probably what kept me acting like I did. If I pushed you away, you wouldn't know. It would have killed me if you found out and I would loose you due…"

"You're not making any sense here," John interrupted him. "You would have lost me one way or the other. Where is the difference between what has happened and what probably would have happened?"

Randy huffed bitterly before he answered: "I was afraid that if you found out I would loose you because I love you and not because something happened between two men that should never have happened." The younger man paused, grabbling for the right words. "I felt like trapped inside myself. I wanted so badly to say that we're good again…"

"What changed your mind then? Why are you here?"

"You told me that you love me. That's why I'm here. Don't you remember?"

"Actually… no. My last memory is you, me and Cody standing in front of your locker room."

Another bitter huff escaped Randys mouth and he closed his eyes which suddenly burned suspiciously. Finally John had his memory back, except…

"After the match you came to my locker room. You wanted to tell me something, but you collapsed before you could. I caught you and you said that you love me before you passed out."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Randy tried to ignore the fact that John's voice was still blank. "And when they told me that you suffered of amnesia and that you'll need someone to watch you the first time I suddenly saw a chance to make up to you for what I did. I thought that maybe, if I showed you how much you mean to me, you would give me a second chance when you remember."

A moment of tense silence filled the room, until John spoke again: "I don't get you. You thought that I would give you a chance just like that, after you treated me like shit and lied to me, because of the few days you were around here?"

Defeated, he finally turned to face John, who stared at him with eyes as blank as his voice, and he felt a cold grip around his heart. The desperation that he had held back through their conversation took over.

"I didn't think clearly, John. I simply couldn't," he whispered. "First I lost our friendship because of being the ass I am, then I thought you'd die and suddenly I found myself given something akin to a chance to…"

Again, the words died in his throat as the older mans eyes remained blank. John could have been angry, disappointed, probably he hated him or he'd never meant it as he'd said that he loved him, or maybe the older man felt something Randy couldn't even imagine. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

He wanted so badly to say or do something, anything, to make the past undone, but all he said was: "I'll ask Cody to stay with you. I'm gonna be out when you wake up."

Slowly he turned away to leave the room, trying to ignore the burning pain inside him, when a hand caught his wrist, holding him back. The grip around his wrist was painful but softened as he looked down at Johns hand.

He looked back up, searching Johns eyes and there was _something_ that fed the last sparks of desperate hope. John opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but no words came over his lips. Instead he closed his mouth again and the grip around Randys wrist loosened and vanished. And with it Randys hope.

John watched as Randy left the room after another moment of silence. He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, heard the younger man get his things out of Johns bedroom and he heard as the door of the spare room fell shut. It was a quiet click but it sounded almost unbearably accusing and… final.

_That's what you made it, Cena, right? You made it a final end._

Even his thoughts sounded accusingly to himself although this had been the right decision. Slowly he walked back up to his room and his eyes fell on the door of the spare room. It was the first time since Randy was here that they were separated by a closed door.

John went into his own room. With his hand on the door to close it he hesitated. It felt wrong to close it. He left it open a crack and slipped into his bed to listen into the darkness…

o o o

The next morning came too fast. The second John opened his eyes he wished he hadn't. Everything came rushing back and as much as he wished it – it hadn't been a dream. His memory was back and Randy was gone.

He wished, _wished_, he hadn't started it last night, wished that Randy had stopped him, wished, that his memory wouldn't have returned. His eyes started to burn suspiciously and he gritted his teeth, tried his best to bite back the tears. Successfully.

Then John heard sounds coming from downstairs and tensed. Could it be…?

_No, this is not Randy. It's probably Cody. He wanted to call him and ask him over…_ John thought bitterly, not really sure if he wanted it to be Randy or Cody.

Finally John crawled out of his bed, padded over to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. A look in the mirror told him that he didn't just feel like shit, no – he looked exactly how he felt. Wow. Great. He finished the brushing and splashed cold water on his face. Then he dared to look again into the mirror. Still not better what he saw there. He looked around… and realized that he probably only tried to play for time. A mirthless laugh escaped his throat. He had to go down there sooner or later, no matter who waited there.

So John went down, padding over to the kitchen as quietly as possible and peeked into the room. He wasn't sure if he was happy… to see that it was Cody. The kid was busy with preparing breakfast, the smell of freshly brewed coffee was already filling the room and pancakes were frizzling on the cooker. Cody stopped, holding up a piece of paper.

"Coffee – check. Pancakes – check. Next… orange-juice and scrambled eggs," Cody told himself, putting down the paper to continue his work.

Randy had left a note what John wanted for breakfast? This was… cute. And not fair. John sighed silently and went in.

"Hey, Cody," he greeted the younger man and made him jump.

Whirling around, Cody greeted back: "Morning, Sunshine! You hungry? I made you breakfast. Sit down, eggs will be ready in three."

John sat down. A second later a mug of hot coffee was served, followed by the pancakes and John grabbed the coffee to take a good sip, only to burn his tongue in the process.

"Shit," he muttered, putting the mug back down.

"You okay?" the younger man asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just fine..." John muttered, sipping his coffee. "Hey, thanks for coming over. Gonna call my mom, think she can be here tomorrow. Then you don't have to hang around and waste your time with wiping my ass."

Cody stopped for a moment to smile reassuringly at him.

"Oh, that's okay. I don't mind to be here. I'm happy if I can help," Cody assured him and continued to work on the eggs. "Sooo… you two had a fight? Again?"

"You know about… our issues?"

John stared at Cody, who had his back turned to him. The kid waved the wooden spoon like a conductor his baton and little pieces of scrambled egg flew around. Good thing John wouldn't have to clean the kitchen. The spoon descended, obviously back into the pan.

"Well, I was there the night at the locker and I'm here today. Wasn't that hard to guess that you did fight," Cody replied, then turned around to serve the eggs.

John looked down at his breakfast, no appetite at all. He took a hearty gulp of his coffee instead. He _knew_ that Cody knew about their arguments, but what else had he noticed? What had Randy told him?

"Yeah, we seem to fight a lot lately, huh? But that stops now. He knew and he did let it happen again…" John murmured absentmindedly.

"Come on, I'm sure he would have told you about your fight, but the doc ordered him not to. No reason to be angry, it wasn't his fault."

John sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he said: "There happened more than just that, okay? A simple argument wouldn't have been the problem."

Cody got up, refilled their mugs and sat back down, eyeing John intently.

"What else happened? Come on, tell me, maybe I can help?"

For a short moment John hesitated, thinking that it possibly wouldn't be a bad idea to talk about it with someone, but then a small voice told him that he probably should choose someone else, no matter how much he liked the kid. If Cody knew, Ted would know, too. And then Randy. No, not a good idea.

"John?"

John waved off and muttered: "Not now, Cody. I'm by far not up to any conversation about it. Sorry."

Cody frowned and decided to ignore what John had said just a moment ago.

"I don't know what happened between you two but…"

"Right, and that's why you shouldn't say anything about it. It's none of your business."

"… but I think you should talk to…"

"Cody!" the older man snapped all of sudden, setting his coffee with more force than necessary on the table, the spilledperte dark liquid pooling around the mug.

"None of my business? The hell, John! We're friends, right? At least I thought we were! And Randy definitely is my friend and I don't want to see him like that!" Cody snapped back.

John huffed a mirthless laugh and got up to get a new coffee and something to clean the table. He rinsed the mug and dried it. It was the mug Randy had used during his stay, John realised, and a wave of sadness washed over him, making him lean heavily on the counter.

"I called him this morning 'cause I wanted to know why he asked me to stay with you and all he told me was that the two of you had a fight and that you have every right to be angry. And he told me to not ask any questions," Cody added.

"Then _why_ _are_ you asking me questions? And why the hell are you telling me that he asked you not to?" John growled.

His anger boiled up, anger about Cody, about himself and all he wanted was to be alone, so he spun around to tell Cody to shut up and fuck off and came nose to nose with the younger man. The kid was rather slim and not the biggest guy around, and his baby-face had always made him seem as intimidating as a puppy to John – until now. Cody was obviously pretty much pissed.

"Because," the smaller man hissed, "I've never seen Randy that sad and desperate before. Maybe whatever he did was bullshit and maybe you have every right to be angry, but in the past days he did everything for you, didn't he? He wanted to make up to you for… whatever. It was his way to say sorry and show you what you mean to him."

John sighed exasperated. He knew the kid could be unnerving, but today he topped everything before.

"Look, I know that. But yesterday he ruined all of it. End of the story."

The coffee forgotten John wanted to leave the kitchen, but Cody stepped in his way.

"You're probably the only person he'd do all this for. You. The only person he would beg for forgiveness."

"Did you listen, Cody?

"Yes, I did. What about you? Shall I make it anymore clear for you, Cena? You're the one he loves. Doesn't that overweigh any bullshit? Think about it."

For a moment John was rendered speechless. How could the kid know that Randy told him…

"What makes you think that he loves me, smartass? And why would I care if he did?"

Cody's face softened as he answered: "John, I'm younger than you are – but neither am I blind nor dumb. I see how he looks at you when you don't see it, how he acts around you. And I saw you do the same. Don't throw that away. Please, just think about it."

With that Cody stepped aside to let John pass, who used the chance to flee to the safety of his room.

o

John tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position and maybe finally sleep. His room was god damn boring. A realisation the had come to him after spending the whole day without leaving it for even a minute. After his argument with Cody he had decided to stay put in his bedroom - alone.

Every once in a while the kid came up to knock at his door and make sure he was okay. A simple "You okay?" - "Yup."- conservation. Around noon Cody brought him some sandwiches, which John ate, despite the fact that his appetite was still far away.

Right now Cody was rummaging in the spare room next to his room, getting ready for bed. He could still hear the kids words, nagging at him, making him think about it more than he wanted to.

He was so angry, _so damn angry_ and he wanted, needed to be angry, but his hand moved on its own accord, searching the empty spot were Randy had slept the nights before. It was cold there and too empty. It didn't feel right.

Randy had done his best to help John wherever, whenever, whatever. Cody had a point there. But still… how could he let _it_ happen again? Randy should have stopped it the second it started. What gave Randy the right to play with his feelings like this? Nothing. Randy should have stopped it, should have stopped _him_.

A long, tired groan escaped his throat. His head hurt badly from too much brooding. He turned to lie on his back, spread-eagled, his fingers plucking at the sheets nervously. Then Johns fingers found Randys shirt and stilled for moment, before they dug into the fabric, closing around it so tightly that his knuckles went white. He knew he shouldn't do it, but he brought it close to his face nevertheless, burying his nose in it, inhaling Randys scent deeply. How could he not? It was like a drug that gave him a badly needed fix.

"Damn you, Orton!" he hissed.

He sat up and he felt a strange emptiness as he stared at the shirt in his hand. And then he made a decision.

"This has to stop. Right now," he muttered to himself and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand.

Scrolling through the stored numbers he found what he was looking for and hit to dial. A few seconds later his call was answered.

"Hey mom," he began hesitantly, "I need to ask you something…"

o

His cell phone rang into the silence of the dimmed room, disturbing Randys attempt to find some rest. He hadn't slept or eaten since last night and not even a few shots Southern Comfort had helped to ease his pain. Comfort my ass.

He tried to ignore the phone, but it kept calling him insistently to come over and finally answer the call. A sound, half a sigh and half a growl came over his lips as he rubbed his eyes, which still burned from crying – gods, he was so pathetic – and got up to tell whoever it was it shut the fuck up and never call again.

The screen showed a name he wasn't sure he wanted to see there. Cody. Why would the kid call him? Only because something wasn't okay with John, right? His heart rate spiked as he flipped the phone open and answered the call.

"Cody? What's up, why're you calling?"

"Randy! It's John, he… I…"

Cody almost screamed into the phone, on the verge to being hysterical and Randys heart stumbled a few beats. There it was, exactly what he didn't want to hear. Something was wrong with John.

"Cody, what's with John? What happened?"

For a few seconds the other end of the line was quiet. That wasn't a good sign.

_No… nononono… _shot through his mind.

"Cody?" he asked, his voice weak.

"Randy, he's… John is… gone," Cody explained.

A choked gasp escaped Randys throat as Codys words hit him. His knees buckled. This couldn't be happening.

"When… did it happen? How?" he whispered, feeling numb, needing to hear it, not wanting to though.

"I don't know! I wanted to look after him and he was gone! No note or something. He didn't say a word that he wanted to go somewhere after we had a fight earlier today and..."

Cody stopped mid-sentence the second he heard it. A low chuckle first, growing to be a loud laugh, a tinge too hysterical to be healthy.

"Cody, I'm gonna kill you the next time I see you!" Randy growled and Cody thought that it didn't quite fit the laughter, as it hit him what he'd just said.

"OH… oh GOD, I didn't mean… It shouldn't sound like this, I mean, he left without telling me and…" he stuttered, grabbling for words, not finding the right ones. "I'm so sorry Randy, I didn't want to scare you…"

Randy didn't hear the babbling. He just sat on the floor, his hand, still holding the phone, rested beside him and the other covered his eyes. His heart still pounded in his chest. John wasn't… gone. He just wasn't at home.

A few deep breaths later his heart rate was back to normal and he put the phone back to his ear. The kid was still babbling.

"Cody… Will you stop… CODY!" Randy snapped.

A sheepish _Sorry_ came from the other end of the line.

"It's okay, I…" Randy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You said he didn't leave a note? What the hell happened?"

"I…uh… asked him… things?"

"Things… God damn, Cody! Great! Just great! Didn't I ask you to NOT bother him?" Randy snarled into the phone, but his anger deflated immediately.

They had to find John and it was no use sitting here on the floor and scolding the kid. He should probably pick up Cody and search for John. Randy stood up and went to the door to grab his jacket and keys.

"I'm coming over," he murmured, his mind already working to remember places where John could possibly be. "Just take another look around, maybe you…"

He opened the front door and froze mid-sentence as he found himself nose to nose with… John.

"Cody? Everything's okay. John is here," Randy said slowly. "I'll call you later."

Without waiting for an answer from Cody he ended the call. John just stood there, his face as blank as the night before, shoulders tense and hands buried in the pockets of his pants. He stared at Randy and the younger man stepped aside, beckoning to John to come in. The older man followed. The moment he heard the door be closed behind him, he spun around and took a fast step towards the younger man. Grabbing a fist full of Randys shirt he pulled him closer, giving him a rough shake.

"You didn't answer my question last night," John snapped. "You thought those few days would be enough?"

All Randy could do was to nod, surprised and shocked by the unexpected aggressiveness.

"Then you're wrong."

"I already got that, John," he whispered. "What do you want? I can't go back and change what happened."

Holding his breath, Randy stared into those beloved baby blues, which suddenly softened. Randy kept very still. He was afraid that if this was a dream – when had he fallen asleep…? - and he moved, he would wake up, still alone. Johns hand let go of his shirt, wandering up to cup his face tenderly. Randy closed his eyes, leaning into the touch to savour this feeling as long as this dream would let him.

John couldn't remember if he'd seen his friend like this before – scared, yet relieved, full of hope and doubt, completely unguarded and vulnerable. He knew it was a part of Randy he kept hidden and god, how he loved this side of his friend. John moved closer to Randy, close enough to feel the heat radiating from the younger man, to smell Randys aftershave and something that was uniquely Randy, mixed with a faint tinge of Southern Comfort. He closed his eyes, taking in the intoxicating smell.

"John?"

His name was spoken like it was something precious and it gave him goose bumps. John opened his eyes again, looking up into stormy-blues that were watching him insecurely. Yeah, he looked up to Randy – and not for the first time it gave him some weird feeling, but this time knew what kind of feeling it was. It made him feel safe. John was broader but Randy was taller, offering a shoulder to bury your face in if you feel sad, long arms that could wrap you up completely – like a stronghold. Johns' own stronghold.

"What I want, Randy," the older man hissed, "is the rest of your life to make up to me. Every. Damn. Single. Day."

Randy opened his mouth to say something, but John just shook his head, stopping him.

"I want to wake up beside you every morning, for the rest of my life. I want to laugh with you, cry with you, I want my best friend back," John whispered, "and I want you to be the love of my life."

Silence fell once more, leaving John hoping and Randy speechless. It took the younger man a few seconds to understand, really understand, what John offered. Nothing more and nothing less than a new start. Together. He searched the beloved baby-blues and found himself greeted by pure love.

"This will be a lot of work to do. And I'm not gonna hide behind fake dates with girls or things like that. You willed to go this way? To do everything it takes?" John asked quietly.

A small smile ghosted around the corners of his mouth as Randy answered: "Hell yeah…"

John nodded, taking a another step closer until they stood only a breath away, their bodies touching. His eyes roamed Randys face, stopping at his lips and then again at those stormy-blue eyes, before he stole a sweet little kiss from his friend that tasted like a promise.

"But… right now," the older man murmured, his voice suddenly husky and raw with emotions, "I want to finish what we started last night..."

The broad hand moved down and back to his nape, brushing the short hair softly before his grip tightened to pull him in for another and this time not so gentle kiss. Letting out a low growl he pushed Randy backwards until his back hit the door, moulding their bodies together.

Bringing his mouth close to Randys ear he hissed: "Where do you want me to fuck you? Bed, couch or right here?"

"Who said I would let you fuck me, Cena?" the younger man hissed back, burying his hands in the front of Johns shirt.

He shoved the massive body away but his hands didn't let go of the shirt. John watched as those lush lips curled up in a devilish smirk as Randy started to steer him to his bedroom.

Destination reached, they stared at each other for a moment, until John ordered: "Take your clothes off."

Randy obeyed, watching the older man peeling out of his clothes, too. Then John gave him a hard push. Randy landed on his back on the bed, followed by John, who climbed on top of him. He reached out, gripped both of Randys wrists and pinned them above Randys head.

John let his eyes trail over Randys body. He'd seen him naked before, but somehow seeing him all spread out _under_ him, on this bed … it was different. Fuck, he was absolutely gorgeous.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Randys throat, drawing his tongue across the soft skin while his fingers trailed down the middle of Randys stomach, causing goose bumps to flare. He felt the muscles under his hand tightening as Randy writhed under him. Smiling, he nipped the skin under his lips, making Randy whine at that, a small, high pitched sound that went straight to his groin and he felt himself getting hard.

To ravenous to explore the whole feast spread out before him at a leisurely pace right he spent a little time on Randys neck, moving down to his chest and the soft skin under his tongue combined with Randys scent he definitely was addicted to gave him a heady feeling. He kissed across the chest, swirled his tongue around his lovers nipples and then sucked and nibbled them when they tightened into hard little points, making Randy whimper.

Moving his lips further down over Randys stomach, he kissed his way down until he reached Randys dick. He hesitated a moment, thinking that he had no damn idea how to do this right, as he felt tender fingers brush the side of his face. John looked up.

"You don't have to do this, Johnny."

"It's okay. I want you to feel good," John whispered back, smiling softly. "Just tell me… if you don't like it."

Randy nodded slightly and leaned back into the pillow. Swallowing hard, John lowered his head in slow motion. He didn't want to think too much about it right now. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his hand around the swollen flesh and brought his mouth close, his tongue dipping lightly into the slit at the tip. Randy gave a low, throaty moan at the touch. The older man smiled and wondered, what kind of sounds he would Randy get to make when they were fucking, when a little touch already made him moan like that. Well, he was going to find out.

Still smiling, he let his tongue trail along the shaft, licking the base and searched his way back up, along the protruding vein. He listened to the small, sharp gasps and moans Randy made, thinking that he wanted to hear this every damn day from now on, before he wrapped his lips around he tip, giving it a soft swirl with his tongue. Getting bolder every second he took more and more of him in before slowly coming back up and started up a steady rhythm, slightly faster than before, only to be rewarded with a growl that vibrated through Randys body.

Randy moaned loudly, his head pressing into the pillow and hands buried in the sheet. He had never felt anything this amazing in his life and it took all his willpower to keep his hips still. The feel of Johns hot mouth around his cock gave trouble not burst immediately. He reached out to stop the older man, who looked up questioningly.

"Jesus, Johnny, that was... wow," he panted, pulling his lover up to him. "But don't want to be the only one having fun here."

He slid his hands down Johns back to his firm ass and grabbed it to bring their hips together, the contact making them both moan. John leaned forward, his teeth biting down on Randys lower lip, shoving his tongue in his lovers mouth for a demanding kiss the second those lush lips opened.

"I've got an idea," John growled, sneaking a hand between their bodies.

A second later Randy gasped surprised as he felt the older man grip both their cocks in one hand and start to stroke them both. He looked at John, who had his eyes screwed shut and then down, staring at their cocks rubbing against each other and against Johns hand as he set up a faster rhythm. The large hand squeezed and tugged and stroked, bringing pressure to just the right spots. For a few moments the room was filled with only their pants and moans, their rapid breathing and sharp little gasps. He felt John tighten his grip and redoubled his efforts and reached down to slow him down. John stopped his movement and look up.

"Just… like this?" Randy panted.

It took John as second to understand what Randy meant and his eyes narrowed at the effort to think straight.

"Have you ever had sex with a man before?" John then asked breathlessly, although he was sure knew the answer already.

"No," Randy replied truthfully and John nodded. "You?"

John shook his head. He was about to say that they had enough time to figure things out and that there were enough other ways to have A LOT of fun right now, when Randy suddenly tugged at Johns arm to lie on top of him. John followed, too surprised to understand what was about to happen. His eyes never leaving Johns, Randy spread his legs and wrapped them around Johns waist.

"Fuck me."

Those two words, wrapped up in that incredibly sexy, husky rumble of Randys voice went straight to Johns cock, making him painfully hard. A groan came over his lips and he closed his eyes. He had to keep his mind straight. He'd had this kind of sex only once before, with a girl.

"Randy, I don't want to hurt you."

The younger man rolled his hips to bring their cocks in contact, drawing another groan from his lover.

"I would lie if I said I'm not scared," Randy admitted a little nervous, "but I trust you, Johnny. You're not going to hurt me."

John opened his eyes again, seeking Randys.

"You got something usable for… you know…" John murmured, blushing slightly.

Randy reached over to the nightstand, opening it and began to fumble in it. A moment later he gave John a small bottle of baby-oil.

"You have that stuff everywhere, don't you?" John chuckled.

"Hey, makes soft skin," the younger man replied smiling.

Then Randy spread his legs a little more and John bit his own bottom lip, knowing he could cause real damage if he wasn't careful. Squeezing some baby-oil on his hands, he positioned one hand at Randys entrance and felt his lover flinch. Then he closed his other hand around Randys cock and started to move up and down slowly, while pushing one finger into the tight heat.

The tanned chest heaved up and down as the younger man tried to catch his breath, a thin sheen of sweat covering the soft skin, making it shine. His face was flush, eyes shut tightly and he was biting down his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. John increased the speed of his hand on Randys cock and leaned up to kiss the abused lip, licking and sucking it tenderly, while adding a second finger.

Sliding his fingers in and out of his lover, he urged him to open his eyes, to look at him and Randy obeyed. John watched the beloved eyes, as he slowly added a third finger, scissoring them ever so soften, making Randy moan loudly and arch up when he found _that_ spot.

Removing his fingers carefully, he hushed his lovers groan of disapproval with a kiss and grabbed the bottle, squeezing some more oil on his hand to slick up his cock.

"You sure," he asked quietly.

Randy nodded, lifted his hips a little and watched John positioning himself. Then his lover thrust forward slowly, pushing his cock against Randys tight entrance, burying himself in the tight heat of his lovers body, making him growl deep in his throat. Randys hands shot up to grab his shoulders and he froze, searching his lovers face.

Randys eyes were screwed shut and there were small lines of pain on his gorgeous face, that morphed to concentration as he willed his body to relax to the intrusion. A soft nod gave John the sign to move. Ever so slowly he pushed deeper burying his aching cock in the body beneath him.

He leaned down, close to his lovers ear whispered: "God, Randy, you're so fucking tight."

Then John pulled out and slid back in agonizingly slow to make sure he wasn't hurting the younger man. One of his hands sneaked between them, closing around Randys cock to move in a matching rhythm to his thrusts. The grip on his shoulders loosened and the tattooed arms wrapped around him. The pale eyes opened again filled with lust.

"I said fuck me, Cena," Randy hissed, bucking his hips up and burying Johns cock even deeper in his ass.

Randy cried out in pleasure as his sweet spot was stroked, his fingers digging into the skin of Johns back painfully, drawing a groan from he older man.

"Harder," he heard a whisper, "faster."

He let go of Randys cock to steady himself on the mattress, his hands were fisting the sheets so tightly, his fingers were starting to hurt as he started to speed up the thrusts. He pulled out and thrust back, again and again and again, one hand taking hold of Randys hips, holding him in place, while he was still picking up the pace, shoving his cock deep and hard in the younger, making him moan whorishly and he matched his lover with needy moans.

The fists were gripping the sheets of his bed hard as he tried to meet Johns bucking hips with his own. His lover wrapped his hand once again around his aching cock, matching their rhythm and leaning down to suck at the tanned skin of Randys neck. Randy cried out, his hands shooting up to pull the older man into him. His nails scraped over the pale skin, leaving red streaks.

Speeding up his movements on Randys cock, he continued to pound into his lover, his hard cock sliding against Randys sensitive spot with every stroke, causing the younger man to moan and whimper. Randy arched his back up, seeking more contact. John was growling, wanting it rough and tender at the same time and pushed his lover back down, his thrusts forcing the writhing body beneath him into the mattress. He knew they both weren't lasting much longer.

He changed the angle of his thrusts, making sure he was hitting Randys sweet spot every time he rammed into him, felt the body around his cock clench and unclench. Leaning down, he kissed Randy forcefully, muffling both their moans and cries.

"Cum for me," he whispered against Randys lips.

Wrapping his arms tighter around John, Randy clawed at the broad back, digging his nails deep into the skin, making John cry out in pain and pleasure. Continuing to pump his hand up and down the hot flesh in his hand, he rammed himself harder into his lovers body and feeling him twitch suddenly, accompanied with a strangled whimper. And then Randy came, shooting hot liquid over Johns hand and their stomachs, his whole body clenching around his lovers cock. The sight of Randy cumming sent him over the edge, his dick jerking inside the tight heat as he spurted his own liquid into his lovers body.

He couldn't help but thrust a few more times, not wanting to end this extraordinary sensation running through him, until exhaustion overwhelmed him. Bracing himself on his forearms, he rested his forehead against Randys, searching his eyes. The lust was gone, had given way for something much more… intimate. Mesmerized, still far from being able to think straight, John watched as those beloved stormy-blue eyes began to glisten, completely vulnerable. Randys lips ghosted over his, an oh soft touch, as the younger man whispered his name, full of affection.

Then, still buried deep inside his lover, John collapsed on top of him, felt his lovers legs slide off his back, the still quivering thighs bumping lightly against own legs, and he tried to braced himself again on his forearms, giving them both some space to catch their breaths. Randys eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted and John couldn't resist the urge to steal sweet little kiss.

"Still not enough?", Randy huffed, his voice laced with amusement.

"Never, but the next time I want more kisses," came the lazy reply. "You okay?"

Tattooed arms were lifted and wrapped around Johns back to pull him back down.

"Come back down, Johnny."

"No, I'm gonna squash you."

"Don't care," the younger man murmured, not loosening his hold until John gave in and sunk back down, with his head resting on Randys shoulder.

They lay there in content silence and John closed his eyes, taking in the scent that filled his nostrils, a mixture of soap, aftershave, sweat, sex and something uniquely Randy. He concentrated on the feeling of soft, hot skin on his, the anchoring embrace of Randys arms, of being completely wrapped up in his lover. The first time in days… no weeks, he felt happy. Really happy.

"You're squashing me, you big lug," Randy muttered after a few moments more, sounding impishly.

"Oh haha, bite me, Orton," John snapped half-heartedly.

"Joke. You stay right were you are."

"Not gonna go anywhere," the older man murmured. "Uhm, Randy…?"

"Yeah?."

"No more running away…"

"John," Randy interrupted him, "no running. In fact I don't think I'll be able to even walk properly in the next few days."

John brought a hand up and pinched one of Randys still sensitive nipples.

"Hey! That hurts!" Randy protested.

"It was supposed to hurt, asshole. That's for making dumb jokes!"

The younger man chuckled, tightened his embrace and planted a kiss on the short hair.

"Hey, eyes on me," he whispered, waiting for John to look up. "No more running, John. Promise. I love you."

"Love you, too."

Randy watched as a smile began to light up the older mans face, bright enough to show those cute dimples.

"Uhm, by the way… you should call Cody."

The embrace around Johns shoulders loosened and a smack on his bare ass made him wince.

"We had incredible sex just a few minutes ago, your dick is still stuck up my ass and I felt really happy and content here and now you tell me that I should call CODY? Not sexy, Cena."

"But if you call him now, he's not going to bother us, you know," John purred, one of his hands wandering down between them only to close around Randys dick, giving it a tentative tug. "And we could go for round two in the shower."

A blink later John found himself on his back beside Randy, who was grabbing the phone on the nightstand. He laughed and got up, making his way to the bathroom.

~ Fin ~


End file.
